Home At Last!
by Doug2
Summary: The story on how Uncle Martin left Earth and returned to Mars.


Home At Last!

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All characters in this story belong to Jack Chertok Pictures.

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SUMMARY: The story of how Uncle Martin finally gets home.

Six years, I had been stranded on this backwards planet, six years.

And throughout all this time I was trying to repair my spaceship

and get home. With the help of Tim O'Hara I was able to get

it repaired, slowly, through many misadventures. He had been

a great amount of help and a true friend. If I had a real nephew,

I would like him to have been like Tim. He was loyal and

caring, emotions I have been able to appreciate. We Martians

are usually unaccustomed to them. Being a newspaper reporter, he

could have easily have taken advantage of my misfortune and

and had the story of the century, but he didn't. I wouldn't have

let him have it either. But now my visit here was almost at an end.

My ship was all ready except for obtaining a accelerant for my

gravity stabilizer. It was airworthy in earth's atmosphere,

but I could never navigate through the earth's magnetic field

and home to Mars. Usually on Mars, we use crystallized

prentaprosfite in a solution of sodium dichromate, but this

material does not exist on earth. So I am tried to synthesize

a similar compound that would take almost a year to do. At

least the end of my visit here was in sight.

One day sunny day in August my nephew Tim brought in

the morning newspaper and was looking most unhappy.

"My editor knows I worked three weeks on the Mason

Construction scandal down at city hall, three weeks, and

I only get three columns on page four. I should be in the

headlines and not a bunch of rocks brought back from the

moon. The astronauts have been back three weeks and we're

giving the front page banner to the first NASA pictures of

these rocks." Tim said in a huff.

"Ah, Tim, remember, most of your earth people have

never seen anything from another celestial body, unlike

yours truly. Let them have their glory. Imagine going

all the way to the moon for some rocks. I do find that

somewhat humorous. If they asked me I could showed

them some real sights on the moon." I said. "It's still

only an old big dusty rock floating in space. You should

the sights and wonders of Mars on a late summer's night

and, well, maybe I will someday soon."

"Uncle Martin," asked Tim, "Are you really that close to

leaving?"

"I'm sure of it. Once I can get my gravity stabilizer fixed.

But don't worry that won't be for sometime yet." I said.

I looked down at the front page of the Los Angeles

Sun at the shiny metal suitcase brought back by the

Earth astronauts. One of the rocks looked familiar

and I picked up the paper quickly.

"Tim, I think that's it. That's it." I said with great

excitement.

"What's that, Uncle Martin? You're going to stuff

today's newspaper in your Gravity - what-a-ma-

call it.," said Tim.

I replied, "Your little planet's space program may have

solved my accelerant problem. Do you have any more

pictures of this rock. If I am correct, your astronauts may

have picked up a piece of crystallized prentaprosfite.

It's a long shot, but the exterior surface and composition

looks right. It's the very last thing I need for the repairs

to my ship."

"That's just great, Uncle Martin," Tim said very

disappointedly. "We can check the photo department

when I get to work. Speaking of that I am running

late. What's for breakfast?"

"The pancakes are just about done." I said as I

pointed my levitation finger at them and they flipped.

Within the hour we down in the offices of the

Los Angeles Sun. Tim and I headed down to the

Photograph Department in the basement to check

out the file on the moon rocks photographs.

The gentleman at the desk looked quite pleasant

until he saw Tim and I walk up.

"What do you want, O'Hara," he growled.

Tim started out, "Will I'm doing a follow-up on the

lunar rocks and I was wanted to see what other shots

you have of them. So if I could please borrow them,

it would be greatly appreciated."

"Go on, move on. I'm busy now and I'll get to them

when I get to them," he said.

"Oh come on, Neil," Tim pleaded.

"Get out of here," Neil said and he went back to his

work.

I quickly scanned his mind and reported to Tim,

"Apparently our not returning the satellite photos we

borrowed several months ago is still weighing heavy

on his mind. Let's try one more time and I'll apply a

little Martian know-how."

So both of us went back to the window and Tim started,

"Now look here Neil, I need those pictures and.." As Tim

was getting his attention I quickly froze him in mid-sneer.

We went around the counter and quickly found the pictures.

In a close-up I found the rock in question and scanned it with

my miniature photo-analyzer. It beeped when it recognized

the structure of the crystallized prentaprosfite.

"Eureka! The scan matches. I knew! Tim this means that

here on earth is the one final compound I need. We got

some work to do." I said.

So we put the photographs back, got back into position and

I unfroze our disagreeable friend.

He blinked and said, "I thought I told you to get out. So

get out."

"Well, if you're going to be that way, I am leaving. Good bye."

Tim said pretending to leave in a huff.

In the hallway I concocted a plan. "Tim, you are going to write

that story and we will soon be on our way to Houston. Let

me give a little suggestion to your editor and he'll be begging

you to do a follow-up." I said joyfully.

We left Los Angeles the following day, Tim doing the story

and I was acting as his photographer. However, I did plan to

get a lot closer than the NASA pressroom.

For several hours Tim interviewed the press attaché,

technicians, scientists and assistants who would be studying

the rocks. Of course they were going about their

analyses all wrong and would reach all the wrong conclusions.

When the last two left I borrowed their identification cards

Tim and I put on lab coats and walked passed security

into the Lunar Receiving Laboratory main complex. At the

first corner a sign showed the Astronaut Quarters to the right

and the lunar sample laboratory to the left.

"Uncle Martin, you know we're right down the hall from

Neil Armstrong and his whole crew. If I could just slip

in there I could get quite an exclusive. Boy, wouldn't

that and be a feather in my press hat," Tim remarked hopefully.

"Yes, and we would be picked up faster than you can sing

the Martian Asteroid Lullaby. Now you have your story.

Let's get out of here as quick as possible," I insisted.

We proceeded down the corridor and found the moon rock

storage facility. Tim watched the door while I disappeared

and went into the lab. It was not hard to find the right

sample. I only needed a trace of the mineral. I transferred

the rock to the cutting glove box and chipped off a very

small piece and returned the rock to its resting place. The

hard part was removing it from the sterile pressurized

environment without setting off the alarm. A little flick of my

finger disabled the alarm. I opened up the pressure door

and had sample fly out to me. We made a hasty retreat and

headed down the hall.

"Someone is coming." I said after checking the mental

airways. So Tim and I ducked into the Meteorite Lab.

A lab technician was inspecting some meteorite samples

and asked what we wanted. I said, "My assistant and I

were just looking for the Photometric Lab." He gave us

directions. Then I picked up a meteorite and said in an

off-handed manner that the rock looked like it came from

the Daricus 2 crater on Mars.

"Mars? What makes you say that," he inquired with great

interest.

"Oh, it's just a theory I have. When meteor in excess, oh say,

50000 metric tons hit the planet, due to the low gravitational

field, some of the ejected material goes into orbit and eventually

lands here on earth after millions of years. Mine you, it's just a

theory."

"That's fascinating, but how do you know it's a Martian rock?

I'd loved to expand on those theories and discussed them with

you, Mr.???" he asked.

"Um, yes, Brennan. William Brennan. Please excuse us we have

to be going. I'll stop in and talk to you a little later." I said.

"I look forward to it. Good-bye, Mr. Brennan. Mars, that

sounds intriguing" he said.

We then moved down the hall way and snuck back into the

pressroom. Our next stop was the car in the parking lot.

Tim looked at the rock sample in awe when we got to the

car. "That's a piece of the moon. Incredible." he mused.

"Not so. The really incredible mineral deposits are on the

far side of the moon. There's enough of the heavy metals

there to keep your earth supplied for centuries. You just have

to find it and get it home. Imagine, your space agency is worried

about microbes from the Moon. With all their precautions, the

lunar samples will be harmed more by the pollutants in your

atmosphere that what harm they could do to you." I said

with great amusement.

"What about the microbes that destroyed the Martians in War

Of the Worlds?" asked Tim. "Can't there a problem like that?"

"Tim, that was just a story by one of your authors who was quite

ahead of his time. H.G. was a very introspective person. I

found his views on the human condition much more interesting

than his science fantasy writings."

Tim asked, "You met him, too?"

"Only in passing during the First World War. Very smart fellow.

As to the question of the microbes, humans and Martians basically

sprang from the same type of cosmic soup. Besides, we have been

visiting each other's planets for centuries and these microbes

are thoroughly mixed by now. Neither of our planets could threaten

each other like that. But let's head back home and to my ship.

And Tim. Thank-you for your help. Of all the humans I have met,

I certainly am fondest of you."

"Don't mention it, Uncle Martin," replied Tim and we headed back

to sunny California.

That night I worked till dawn on my spaceship. The moon rock

sample was of sufficient purity that it worked very nicely in my

Gravity Stabilizer. I was able to revitalize it and reinstall it all

before breakfast.

When I got upstairs Tim had fixed the biggest breakfast I had

ever seen. He was usually not that energetic this early in the

morning,

"Uncle Martin, breakfast is served," he announced.

"What's all this? If I eat everything here, I will never get my

ship off the ground." I said.

"Well. I did think of that. This is your bon voyage party. We

can't invite anyone over to attend it. It's also your last

old-fashioned earth-bound home cooked meal for a long time.

So eat hearty." Tim said trying to be enthusiastic.

"All right, then. Let's eat.' I put down more food than I ever had.

When we finished Tim just sat there looking at me like some

Numberian puppy dog.

"Tim, I've stowed all my travel belongings and destroyed the

rest of my inventions. In your room is my duplicator. It might be

of some use to you. I really can't say goodbye to anyone, so

just tell that them that I'm off on an anthropological expedition.

That is my specialty. You and Lorelei and the only two here

that I really got close to in the last six years. I left a note on the

night table for Lorelei. Please see that she gets it. You can even write

that Pulitzer Prize winning story now that I'm gone. I know I

couldn't have made it thought the last six years without your help

And will I...I...I..." For the first time in centuries I was at

a loss for words.

"Uncle Martin. You don't have to say another thing. I feel the same

way. I will miss you a lot, but I hope we will see each other again;

someday. And if I write that story I will either be world-famous or end

up in the padded cell. If I want my life to be back to normal, I should

probably forget about it. Not that I have cherished all of our ad-

ventures. Maybe I could write some short stories and have them

published in some science fiction magazine. Maybe even write a

television series. Wouldn't that be a blast? Me up their with H.G.

Wells! Anyway, let's get you on your way." Tim finished.

We went to the garage, put the ship on a trailer and towed it into

the desert.

It was very hot as the sun danced off the land and reflected off my

silver spacesuit. I levitated the ship to level piece of desert. It was

a nice day for a flight. That's something I don't think I could have

appreciated before meeting Tim. He has a casual side that I came

to admire. Occasionally I may stop to smell the roses.

"Well, I guess this is it, Uncle Martin. I want to wish you a safe

trip." Tim said slightly choking.

"Yes it should be lovely. I should see a solar eclipse as I pass behind

the moon," I said trying to make some small talk.

"You got magazines for your flight? Luggage all checked? And don't

flirt with the stewardesses too much. Take care of yourself and you

better drop back in someday." Tim said.

"Yes, I may. Good-bye Tim and thanks." I said trying not to show any

emotion. We Martians are supposed to be above that.

"Bye," said Tim, "And watch out for our space ships, this time."

We shook hands and I opened up the hatch got in. My ship took

off and I circled Tim and his car twice as I gained some altitude and

then headed straight for the moon. Tim was left just staring up as my

ship flew out of sight.

As I swung behind the moon and the solar eclipse completely filled my

window, I couldn't but think that I will be back again sometime soon.

Earth isn't such a bad place, I thought, as I left earth orbit and headed

home at last!

THE END


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